Magical Me
by TheDailyFibb
Summary: Inspired by a Tumblr post... Kurt and Blaine at Hogwarts, in their seventh year during the events of the Chamber of Secrets.
1. Chapter 1

Blaine always dreaded the Underground on 1st September. Here he was, with two humongous suitcases, a rucksack and a birdcage containing a beautiful yellow canary. Try to get across London without getting any funny looks then. Of course, Blaine's parents never even suggested offering him a lift and he knew better than to ask. He assured himself that, as always, it would all be worth it when he sat down on the Hogwarts Express.

He couldn't believe it was his last year. The time seemed to have flown by in an amazing whirlwind and he had no idea where he was going to go after the end of his education. He knew he had a bright future ahead of him, though; all the teachers said so.

Once he arrived at King's Cross, Blaine began to feel the familiar excited butterflies in his stomach, and struggled into the station. He grabbed a nearby trolley and heaved his stuff painstakingly onto it. Hearing a voice that he knew all too well, he looked up and beamed. "Mike!"

"Hey, Blaine!" The two patted each others' shoulders in greeting and Mike went back to grab his trolley, pushing it over to him. "Do you think I've done a good job fitting in, then?"

Blaine glanced over his friend's outfit: jeans, trainers, jumper. He nodded his approval. "Very nice," he laughed. "I'm impressed."

"Thanks," Mike grinned. "So, you ready for your N.E.W.T.s this year, then?"

"As I'll ever be, I think," Blaine sighed. "You?"

Mike shrugged. "My dad's really getting on my case about them," he replied, looking apprehensively back at his parents. "I'd better go say goodbye properly – but I'll meet you on the train?"

"Sure," Blaine said, heading towards the barriers between platforms 9 and 10. On the way, he spied Trent, who was chatting with a bunch of the other Ravenclaw boys. The two exchanged friendly smiles, but Blaine pressed on. He didn't want to intrude. He didn't know Trent too well, and, as a Hufflepuff, didn't want to inconvenience the newly-appointed Head Boy. He shook his head. That was such an odd thought. People his age, Prefects and Head Boys.

He stowed his luggage safely on the overhead rack as he settled into his compartment. A few minutes later, a Slytherin boy with brown hair pulled open the door of his compartment. His eyes fell on Blaine and he paused. "Oh. Sorry." He shut the door and continued past.

Blaine had recognised the boy as Kurt Hummel, Slytherin Prefect. He'd been a favourite for Head Boy. Blaine was glad that Trent had got it, though. He himself had always got nothing but crap from Slytherins, especially as a Muggleborn, and he disliked them all intently. He was still glowering at the door when Mike opened it, followed closely by their Gryffindor friend Sam.

"What's up?" Sam asked as he sat down.

Blaine shook himself, and then his head. "Nothing, sorry. Just thinking."

The two boys smiled back at him, before Mike launched into a conversation about Quidditch leagues. Blaine settled back into his seat, ready to enjoy the journey with his friends.

* * *

The Hogwarts Express pulled out of Platform 9¾ as normal, at 11 o'clock on 1st September. Kurt leant his forehead against the window and looked out at the countryside, which sparkled prettily in the Indian summer haze. The first thing he'd done when he'd got on the train (after finding himself a compartment on his own and securing his luggage) was change into his school robes. He was never sure what he hated more: the snarky comments and sideways glances he got from the other Slytherins whenever they saw his Muggle clothes, or the gasps and looks of apprehension he got from the rest of the school the moment he put on his Slytherin Prefect badge. Well, good thing Kurt Hummel preferred to roll solo.

As the journey rolled on, Kurt found himself humming a song that had been playing on the radio earlier when his dad had driven him to King's Cross. He sighed. Even thinking about his dad made his chest tight. And the amount of comments he had received insulting his father had reached new heights. How "Half-blood Hummel" had managed to score Prefect two years ago had been anyone's guess.

So what if his dad was a Muggle? It didn't mean anything. The sooner the other Slytherins saw that, the better. He'd still been so proud when Kurt had got his Hogwarts letter six years ago. In fact, he'd insisted on being twice as proud since Kurt's mother couldn't be.

Kurt smiled sadly out the window. He missed his mum. He missed the charms that she'd do for him when his dad wasn't looking . He missed how exciting she'd made magic seem.

Elizabeth Hummel had been in Hufflepuff. Kurt had hoped to also be, but the Sorting Hat's word was final. Although Kurt's dad insisted it didn't matter, it mattered to Kurt. And apparently, it mattered to the other Slytherins.

He couldn't wait for the end of the year. Leaving Hogwarts for good behind him and getting that job at St. Mungo's that he'd wanted ever since his mum had quit it to raise him. He'd even asked about work experience, but they didn't offer it to people without N.E.W.T.s.

"Anything off the trolley, Kurt?"

The voice of the witch broke Kurt's bubble of self-pity. Even after six years of attending Hogwarts, he still classed this woman as one of his closest friends. He didn't even know her name.

He smiled. "No, thank you."

She shrugged and handed him a pumpkin pasty. "Come on. On the house."

Kurt took it and nodded gratefully. "Thanks."

"Everything alright?"

He almost laughed. "Nothing's ever alright." He sighed. "My dad had a heart attack while I was away last year. He had no way of contacting me. He could have died, and I..." He wiped his eyes frustratedly, and exhaled loudly.

The witch nodded understandingly. "It's not your fault, Kurt. How could it be? It's just all the more reason to work hard this year, get that job at St. Mungo's, and sort him out yourself." She smiled. "Just one year left. You'll be fine."

The moment she left, Kurt started doubting it.

* * *

**A/N: Hello everyone! So I've been away for a while and not updating my "A Transfer to Dalton Academy" fic for a while - sorry about that. Shameless self-promoting there, if you wanna check it out. I thought that to get over my mental block, I'd start another fic, so here you go. This is gonna be one with Author's Notes so... please follow/favourite/review as you please. This hasn't been beta-ed or anything and I don't own Harry Potter, Glee or any of their characters. Thanks for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

"Gilderoy Lockhart's our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher?" Blaine said for the sixth time, poking absent-mindedly at his shepherd's pie and glancing up again at the professors' table.

"Geez, Blaine, get over yourself," Mike groaned, frustration beginning to creep into his voice. "Yes, Lockhart's your new teacher: so what?"

Blaine sighed and shook his head. "Have you read his books?"

"Can't say I have," Mike replied unenthusiastically, reaching for more pasta. "Why, what does he write about?"

"What he's done." Blaine rested his chin on his hand and looked again at the blond professor, who was talking animatedly to the other staff. "All the things he's fought – werewolves, vampires, ghouls – and the people he's saved. I'd love to do stuff like that."

"Love to do him, you mean," Mike mumbled to himself.

"What?"

"Nothing."

Blaine finally ate a forkful of food. "I can't believe you dropped Defence Against the Dark Arts," he said scathingly.

Mike shook his head. "I can't believe you didn't," he responded.

"Touché." But Blaine loved the subject and nothing Mike could say to him would influence his view. He hoped to use it when he someday got a job – though what for, he had no idea. He wished that Hogwarts offered better careers advice.

The two of them ate in silence for a while; although it was mostly Mike eating and Blaine gazing dreamily in Professor Lockhart's direction.

"Do you think he'll teach us how to kill vampires?"

"Maybe, I guess."

"Or he could tell us how to cure lycanthropy. He said he was working on that in 'Wanderings with Werewolves'."

"I don't really care."

"Or maybe he'll – "

"Seriously! Blaine!" Mike pointed at him disparagingly with his fork. "Shut up and eat something. You're doing my head in."

Blaine sheepishly downed a glass of pumpkin juice. Secretly, though, he couldn't wait for Professor Sprout to hand out their timetables.

"Have you seen Tina today?" he asked, as a brave stab at changing the conversation topic.

Mike nodded and tried to speak through a mouthful of food. "We met up at King's Cross but she went to get a compartment with a couple of her sixth-year friends. I think we're gonna meet up at the weekend, but she might come round to the common room later in the week." He smiled coyly before spilling pumpkin juice on himself while trying to pour it.

"So long as she stays out our dorm." Blaine wrinkled his nose. "I don't trust you two in there."

Mike laughed. "What do you think we'd do?"

"Honestly, Mike, I don't know and I don't want to know." Blaine sighed and shook his head. "I don't want nightmares."

"Oh, not again," Mike sighed. "Okay, you win; I'm not going to have a repeat of that."

Despite their continued and animated conversation, Blaine still kept an eye on Gilderoy Lockhart until the students all filed out to go to their dorms for the night.

* * *

Kurt hated his dorm: a group of four poxy pure-bloods with nothing better to do than insult people. 'People', in this case, mostly meant him.

"Hey, Hummel," one of them jeered as they headed up the stairs to their dorm. "Had a good summer?"

"Oh, no, wait," another responded, "he can't have done; he was in the Muggle world with his ape of a father."

That, apparently, merited a round of applause from the rest of the boys.

Kurt feigned an inability to hear them. After six years of the same treatment, he'd almost mastered the technique. Head turned away, stare at something – anything – and keep your hands busy.

Tonight, though, he just couldn't do it. The comments hit hard and stung, despite his desperation to avoid reacting.

"Why don't you just put us all in detention, hmm, Hummel? Afraid we're too much for you? Four measly average Slytherins against the mighty Prefect Half-Blood Hummel?"

"Was your daddy proud of you, Hummel? Or did he just grab another banana out the tree?"

"Was your mummy proud of you? Oh, wait..." That one got the biggest reaction from the other boys.

"Yes, you're all very funny," Kurt said angrily, climbing onto his bed and pulling the green curtains around himself, shielding him.

Yeah, thought Kurt. I wish.

The taunting went on well into the night. Kurt didn't even change his clothes and just slept in his robes, using his suitcase as a pillow.

He dreamt that he was lying on the grass next to the lake. It looked to be summer because there was the really bright kind of sun that you only really got in July. It was reflecting off the water and making everything sparkle.

Kurt could sense someone near him, next to him. He could feel the body warmth and the rustle of fabric on fabric when he adjusted his position.

He'd had dreams like this before: lifelike, very lifelike. According to Professor Trelawney, he had clear Seer potential.

He tried to move, to see who he was lying next to, but his dream wouldn't allow him to. All of a sudden, he felt a hand slip into his, rubbing gently along his thumb. A warmth spread across Kurt's chest unlike anything he'd ever felt before.

And then he heard it.

It hadn't been said – at least, not directly. Kurt could only really hear echoes of it and would never have recognised the voice.

But he recognised the words.

I love you.

There was no mistaking it. Kurt lay there, staring up at the bright blue sky, feeling absolutely and perfectly happy, gripping tightly onto the hand next to him.

He knew he'd returned the words, though he wasn't sure how he knew.

I love you too.

When he woke up, he realised he'd been crying in his sleep. Also, the other Slytherins had all pelted him with ink before they'd gone down to breakfast.

* * *

**A/N: *sidles in from backstage* Hello again. *hangs head* I'm sorry, I know it's been a while (unless you're reading this in the future, in which case: hey!) and I'm not going to pelt you with excuses, even though I could. Just know that both this fic and my other one "A Transfer to Dalton Academy" remain close to my heart and in a large number of my waking thoughts, so I haven't stopped writing them on purpose. I've actually got a great plan for this story, so... you're gonna have to wait until I've written it, but it'll be great. This has again not been beta-ed and any feedback is hugely welcome! Favourite/follow/review as you see fit! Thanks so much for reading!**


	3. Chapter 3

Morning came quickly for Blaine. Before he knew it, he was heading up to breakfast with Mike. In the Entrance Hall, Mike spotted Tina on the stairs and rushed to greet her. Rather than awkwardly third-wheel all morning, Blaine decided to sit alone at the Hufflepuff table, and eventually found himself surrounded by second-years.

"Hiya, Blaine," one smiled.

"Oh – hi, Ernie." Blaine made an effort to return the friendly gesture. "Anything exciting happen over the summer?"

Ernie shook his head. "Not really, but – you know Harry Potter?"

Blaine almost laughed. How would he not? "Sure," he said, his eyes flickering over the Gryffindor table. "What about him?"

"Well, yesterday – I mean, last night – apparently he and his friend, Ron Weasley..." Ernie took a great breath, and then spoke at doublespeed. "They missed the train yesterday and so they drove a magical flying car here and then Professor Snape caught them and was going to expel them, but then Professor Dumbledore saved them." He beamed proudly.

"Wow," Blaine responded, eyebrows raised. "That's... are you sure that that's true?"

Ernie nodded animatedly. "Well, Justin heard it from Anthony, and he heard it from Susan, and she heard it from Lavender – and Lavender's _in Gryffindor_! So she must have heard it from Harry or Ron!"

"Alright, then," Blaine said, pouring himself a glass of juice.

"Actually, speak of the devil – Justin!" Ernie waved his friend over and Justin sat down next to Ernie, opposite Blaine.

"Morning, Blaine," Justin said, grabbing a bowl.

"Hey." Blaine felt it had gotten a bit too weird, sitting and talking to these twelve-year-olds at breakfast rather than people his own age, so he busied himself with eating in the hope that it would occupy him – _at least,_ he thought, _until Professor Sprout gives out the timetables_.

He always forgot how good the food was here, and, as it turned out, distracting himself by eating worked like a charm. He barely looked up until Professor Sprout poked him very hard in the back with his timetable.

"Come on, Blaine, you lazy lump," she scolded good-naturedly, handing him the sheet.

"Sorry – thanks, Professor," Blaine smiled, taking it.

"You've got to be concentrating if you want to pass your NEWTs – now's as good a time as any to start."

"Sure."

Off Professor Sprout bustled, handing out timetables and friendly smiles. It was at times like these that Blaine was so glad to be in Hufflepuff.

He glanced down at his timetable, followed the line from Wednesday... and smiled.

This afternoon he had his first Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson, with Gilderoy Lockhart.

* * *

Snape, not unlike the rest of Slytherin house, intensely disliked Kurt. It was out of utter dedication to his career plan that Kurt put up with him at all. As it was, he'd been itching to pour to Draught of Living Death over Snape's head for years.

"Not finished clearing up yet, Mr Hummel?" the professor asked derisively for the fourth time. He'd kept Kurt in at lunch to wipe up the spilt ingredients of a more favoured – and less talented – student.

Kurt kept his eyes down, swallowing his retort and his pride as he continued scrubbing at the mashed dragon eyes stuck to the floor. Don't react. Don't let him know he's getting to you.

Ten minutes and several more snide comments later, Snape allowed Kurt to head to lunch. Kurt pulled himself up off his knees, stretched out his back, and left.

To add insult to injury, Kurt checked his timetable only to be reminded that after a lonely lunch, he had Defence Against the Dark Arts.

Kurt loved the subject. He really did. It was the one thing he'd chosen to do for fun rather than because it gave him a better shot at St. Mungo's. But he felt as though Gilderoy Lockhart was an absolute poser and he missed Professor Quirrel. Okay, the guy had been possessed by Voldemort, but he'd been a really knowledgeable buy and a spectacular teacher. Lockhart seemed a bit too... blond, for Kurt's liking.

Lunch crawled by at a snail's pace, with angry glares hitting Kurt from all directions. Even the Bloody Baron kept sticking his head through the wall behind the table to scowl. Kurt ate in silence, his eyes sliding back and forth across the empty table spaces opposite him. He didn't think it would be getting to him this fast, being lonely. He'd been so used to it, his whole time here – but the situation with his dad had definitely struck a nerve. He couldn't have his dad being ill – dying – and to just be here, hating life. Not after everything with his mum.

Finally, the bell went, and Kurt sighed and got up to leave.

* * *

**A/N: So, I know, I suck at updating everything I do. I'm sorry. But here you go: another chapter for you all! And I can promise the next one will be up... soon-ish, and it's already way longer than the ones so far, so I hope you enjoy it. As per usual, this hasn't been beta-ed or anything, and I really love getting feedback so favourite/follow/review as you deem appropriate! And, if you like the Glee part of this story, maybe check out my other fic "A Transfer to Dalton Academy"? Thank you so, so much for reading, and I'll see you all super soon!**


	4. Chapter 4

Blaine was disappointed to see rather fewer people he recognised than he expected to standing outside Professor Lockhart's classroom. To his surprise, it was the Slytherins that he knew: Rachel Berry and Sebastian Smythe. Blaine and Rachel went back a little bit: they used to be paired in Care of Magical Creatures, and the two of them got along civilly enough. Blaine had met Sebastian the year before, in the Owlery. He'd been sending a letter to Cooper, his older brother, and – though he never found out to whom Sebastian was writing – Sebastian had made a couple of dirty jokes and Blaine felt that that must, to some degree, make them friends. Either way, he dropped them both a friendly nod to ward off any future tensions and leant against a nearby wall.

After a few moments, the door flew open and Gilderoy Lockhart burst out of the room. Blaine swallowed and tried to control the knotting of his stomach. Professor Lockhart was wearing scarlet robes that made him look slightly as though he was on fire. Had he changed since breakfast? Blaine struggled to remember.

"Hello, hello, hello!" Lockhart exclaimed, beaming round at them. Blaine found himself beaming back. "Welcome, my wonderful seventh-years! Please, please, please, come in!" The man all but skipped back inside the classroom and beckoned enthusiastically for them all to follow. "Take a chair, all of you! That's it." He continued to grin around at them while they all sat. To Blaine's surprise, the back of the classroom filled up exceptionally quickly, leaving him the further forward person, in the second row.

Professor Lockhart didn't seem perturbed, though, and began his lesson. "So, I trust you've all got your copies of my full published works with you?"

Blaine nodded and smiled, assuming his classmates behind him did the same thing.

"Excellent!" Lockhart beamed again. "Well, in that case, I think we'd – "

Just then, the door of the classroom opened once more and another Slytherin figure hurried in. It was Kurt Hummel, the boy who'd crashed Blaine's compartment on the Hogwarts Express the day before. He was carrying his bag in both arms and was soaking wet. Blaine saw his eyes glance over the back row, then the next, until he eventually and begrudgingly took a seat a few down from Blaine, on his row.

"Now, Mr...?" Professor Lockhart seemed unimpressed by the late arrival. _And quite right, too_, thought Blaine.

"Hummel, Professor, Kurt Hummel."

"Well, Mr Hummel," Lockhart began, rolling the name around his mouth in a way that, in Blaine's opinion, was completely adorable. "It's not like a Prefect to be late for my first lesson with him."

Blaine agreed wholeheartedly. He'd never pass up an opportunity to spend time with Professor Lockhart.

Kurt Hummel wiped his dripping face on his dripping sleeve and put his bag down heavily on the table in front of him. Blaine noticed that the strap had been cut, extremely cleanly. The satchel sat in a little pool of water on the desk. "Yes, Professor," Hummel said, showing a spectacular amount of gall by holding Lockhart's gaze with a steely glare. "Won't happen again, as far as I can help it."

Professor Lockhart, commendably oblivious of his student's current state, nodded and said, "well, you'd better," before carrying on with his lesson unfazed.

Gilderoy Lockhart certainly had a knack for public speaking. Blaine was entranced by the man's stories for almost half an hour, before Lockhart suggested that they pair up and practise defensive spells.

"I'm thinking of starting a duelling club, you know," he said airily. "For the younger students, of course – but you lot can recap for me all your previous knowledge, since there may ne a few... gaps, from your previous educator."

That was fair enough. Blaine reckoned that if he'd been possessed by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, he'd've failed a couple of classes too. Now, though, the question was raised as to whom Blaine could pair with.

"So, Mr Hummel," Lockhart announced, flourishing an arm in the Slytherin's direction, "since you're on the same row, you can be paired with Mr...?"

Blaine was too distracted by the sky-blue eyes to notice that they were looking straight at him. He swallowed quickly and responded, "Anderson, Professor."

"Mr Anderson," Lockhart finished brightly. Blaine took a breath and tried not to react to the astounding way the Professor said his name. He managed to get away with a small smile before his brain caught up with recent events. _Wait, what? Paired with Kurt Hummel?_ The smile slid away surprisingly easily.

Lockhart had moved further back down the room, pairing up his other students. Blaine looked at Kurt, trying to gauge his next action.

Kurt stood up, picked up his wand off the desk and began to bridge the gap between them, squelching down the row. Blaine sighed and went to meet him halfway.

They nodded politely at each other; exchanging actual dialogue seemed out of the question. Water still occasionally dripped off the ends of Kurt's nose.

Lockhart had settled himself down behind his desk at the front, and Blaine immediately turned to see him as he talked. "Alright, everyone, let's start things off. First, let's try a Disarming spell." He paused, holding one finger up. "But first..." He flicked his wand through the air, and all the desks suddenly were stacked neatly against the nearest wall, creating a huge space in the centre of the floor. "There you go," the Professor said, with a wink. "Health and safety."

That wink. Blaine allowed himself a moment to mentally envision it again before turning back to his partner, who was standing next to him in silence and a puddle. "Do you want to go first?" Blaine offered unenthusiastically, raising his eyebrows.

Kurt gave a shrug that seemed to say, "fine," and raised his wand. "Expelliarmus," he muttered, flicking his wrist sharply.

Blaine felt a hidden force shove his hand back and his wand was thrown out of his grip and across the room, landing a few feet from Lockhart's desk.

"Good cast, Mr Hummel!" Lockhart exclaimed, leaping up and snatching Blaine's wand from the floor. "If you carry on like that, I'll be most impressed!"

Blaine felt a surge of jealousy. It was only a Disarming spell, for crying out loud. On the plus side, though, it gave him an excuse to go get his wand from Professor Lockhart. He walked over, flashed his most charming smile (nothing on Gilderoy Lockhart's five times winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award smile, but it was the best he could do), and help out an expectant hand.

"Go on, Mr Anderson," Lockhart said encouragingly, giving Blaine back his wand. "Give him a run for his money."

Blaine cast a perfect Disarming spell, and Kurt's wand flew from his grip and hit Sebastian Smythe of the side of the head. He turned from his conversation with Rachel, fuming.

"You throwing your wand at me, Hummel?" he shouted confrontationally across the classroom.

Kurt closed his eyes slowly before responding. "No, Sebastian, I'm not," he replied. "That's what happens when you're hit with a Disarming spell: your wand flies away."

Blaine considered jumping in at this point to apologise, but he assured himself that it wouldn't help (and, if it did, it would only help Kurt anyway).

Sebastian began to cross the room, Kurt's wand in his left hand and his own in his right. He threw Kurt's wand at him, hard. It smacked harshly on his arm and clattered to the floor.

"Alright, Hummel, pick it up; we're duelling," Sebastian announced dramatically, brandishing his own wand.

Kurt visibly sighed, his wet robes sticking to his slumping shoulders. "I'm not duelling you, Sebastian," he said, stowing his wand away in an inside pocket of his robes.

"What's wrong?" came Rachel's loud voice from the back of the classroom. "You scared Bas'll beat you?"

"Yeah, you scared I'll bear you, Half-Blood?" Sebastian goaded.

Blaine remembered the taunts that "Half-Blood Hummel" had borne since their first year. Being Muggle-born, Blaine had always disapproved of the Slytherins for their pure-blood complex that they all seemed to have, and resolved to no longer direct friendly nods to Sebastian – or, for that matter, Rachel.

It was at this moment that Professor Lockhart decided to pipe up. "Oh, _you're_ Half-Blood Hummel? You've got quite a name for yourself there, I think."

Blaine didn't know whether Lockhart genuinely didn't realise the important that blood status carried in Slytherinm or – rather like Blaine – that he just didn't mind watching Kurt suffer, but either way, it had a huge effect on Kurt. His eyes widened, and almost seemed to light up with anger. He spun around and – to gasps from everyone – raised his wand to Professor Lockhart. "Don't call me that!" he yelled, before turning on his heel and heading through the remaining crowd of students, which parted into two seas of shocked faces, watching him pass.

"Detention, Mr Hummel!" Lockhart shouted wildly. "Get back here, now!" He leapt up from his chair and ran to the door, but, with a flick of Kurt's wand, the desks that were stacked against each wall toppled, and fell.

As the door slammed shut, a tower of desks near Blaine was leaning precariously, and all of a sudden the bottom one slipped and Blaine had to jump backwards to prevent being flattened. Several other students only closely escaped an imminent visit to the hospital wing. The risk of death by desk forced everyone, including Professor Lockhart, to the very front of the classroom until everything stopped moving.

"Right ho, everyone," Lockhart said in a kind of daze. "I think we'll leave it there. If you could sort out the desks – thank you, Miss Berry – and then I think you're all free to go."

Blaine grabbed his bag from the mess and, on impulse, picked up Kurt's too. It really was an inconvenience to carry, with its cut strap and being still dripping wet.

"I'll give this back to him, Professor," Blaine said, showing the teacher Kurt's bag.

"Excellent, Mr Anderson, thank you very much." Blaine felt relieved that Professor Lockhart was back to his old bubbly self, and smiled before turning to go.

* * *

The first thing that Kurt realised once he turned the corner out the classroom was that he'd forgotten his bag. But as it was, he couldn't give up any more of his pride, and – judging by the incredible amount of noise clattering down the corridor – he couldn't've even if he'd wanted to.

Rather than turning right, towards the stairs, Kurt resolved to go left down the corridor, wait for all his classmates to go past, and then return to the room and (hopefully) sneak his bag out from under Lockhart's nose.

What a moron. He was even more dense in person. Plus, on top of his idiocy and lack of tact, his writing style was somewhat clunky and extremely temperamental. Kurt had barely made it through one of Lockhart's books over the summer before he'd thrown it across the room in exasperation. What kind of teacher puts all his own books on the syllabus anyway?

Kurt settled himself into a cosy alcove by the huge frosted window. With any luck, no-one would even glance his way.

To Kurt's surprise, the first student to round the corner was none other than Blaine Anderson. He was walking quickly and turned right seemingly automatically, before throwing a glance over his shoulder in Kurt's direction. He paused, the two boys locking eyes, and retraced his steps.

"What?" Kurt barked after a moment, unsure how much hostility to put into his voice. He was painfully aware that Sebastian and Rachel and the rest of their class could be heading down the corridor any second.

Blaine held up Kurt's bag without a word. He raised his eyebrows questioningly.

Immediately, Kurt felt bad. His classmate had done the kind thing and brought him his bad, and he had been nothing but rude. Kurt had to remind himself that this whole situation was basically Blaine's fault anyway. He stood up quickly and strode over to the other boy, grabbing his bag firmly with both hands. "Thanks," he said, trying to both sound sincere and avoid looking Blaine in the face. Once the satchel was successfully transferred, Kurt made to go.

"Why are you all wet?" Blaine asked suddenly, causing Kurt to start.

Kurt turned back to Blaine, his damp robes clinging disgustingly to his back at the mention of them. "The rest of the Slytherins paid Peeves in dungbombs to assault me," he replied tonelessly. "He pelted me with water balloons and slashed my bag." It began to somewhat of a struggle to keep his voice even, so Kurt decided that the best course of action would be to leave as quickly as possible, and ideally before he did something stupid like cry.

This time, Blaine didn't shout after him.

* * *

**A/N: Two chapters in two days - I'm doing well! I hope you like this one, because it's quite a bit longer than the chapters are usually. Remember to favourite/follow/review if you deem it worthy, and thank you so so much for reading!**


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